


The Lesser of Evils

by floweryhanzo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A+ Shimada parenting, Alpha Genji Shimada, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Brotherhood, Gen, Implied/Refenced Parent/Child Incest, Incest, Omega Hanzo Shimada, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex-Based Discrimination, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 05:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12358569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweryhanzo/pseuds/floweryhanzo
Summary: The clan would never follow an unclaimed omega.





	The Lesser of Evils

**Author's Note:**

> Okay kids, fun's over, and from hereon out, forbidden altogether. Yeah, that also means the sexy kind of fun - if you're here for that, I'm afraid the fic won't provide. Sorry. That list of tags there exists as a warning of the themes of the story, not so much to invite you in if you like them. Please consider the Gen-category, in spite of the pairing tag used for thematic/archiving purposes, especially.
> 
> Big thanks to my test-driver **[Zombieheroine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombieheroine)** , whose libido I'm set on destroying one horrible story at a time, but who still despite her squicks and, uh, her burning hatred of A/B/O read through this to give me an outside perspective. Love ya. 
> 
> I don't usually preface my stories much but I feel like with this, you've got to know what you're walking into. I'm, like. Hella into the dystopic aspects of the A/B/O universe. Hella into the implications, the societal and cultural dynamics, the fucked up biological aspects, and especially the parallels to our own society. And, look; I've seen some shit on my Tumblr dashboard, and it seems that my dashboard really, really loves omega Hanzo. One day, I just started thinking, _what if_ the heir of the Shimada clan actually was an omega of all things?
> 
> How would that work out?
> 
> If I don't get booted the hell out of the fandom for putting this fic out, I'd really like to, one day, maybe, expand on that thought. Meanwhile - enjoy the ride.

* * *

 

* * *

Genji had spent countless hours in his father’s office as a kid. He’d crawled on the floors, made a nest underneath the table at his father’s feet, and he’d hidden there in a blanket fort to watch dangerous men - killers - settle deals and exchange money and oaths above his head. He could still look down and find the spot on the floor where he’d been on his back next to Hanzo one summer’s day after Sojiro’s last meeting, listening to him recall a story for them like any good father. Now, Genji feels as if the door he’s walking through leads to a different realm altogether. The tension in his body doesn’t relax but increases instead, each muscle in him fighting against his will to push forwards.

He stops before the man in wait for him and bows deeper than he usually would in front of his father, expecting trouble although nobody’s told him why he’s been called.

”Good morning, Sparrow.”

A flicker of a smile crosses Genji’s lips. He straightens up and walks closer to the table, trying to appear as casually carefree as he usually is.

”You called, Father?”

”I’m surprised you were around to answer a summons,” Sojiro tells him with a hint of blame in his voice.

”Ahh, I’m not always away from home, just most of the time.”

”You are often the reason I wake up with a headache, Genji, but today, the reason is different. I’d like you to sit down for a moment, then I will let you go and do whatever is more important today than staying and heeding to your duties.”

Slowly, Genji nods. He shuffles to the side and falls into a cozy armchair, one reserved for the higher-ranking members of the clan whenever they visit the office for meetings or reports. His long limbs don’t seem to fit in it any better than they fit his body even though he’s been trying to grow himself proportionate again for years after the initial growth spurt made him more leg than man. Outside, birds are chirping - the noise of the city spreading around them seems distant within the ancient walls.

”This is about your brother.”

”Hanzo?”

”Do you have others that I do not know about?” Sojiro asks, watching with some satisfaction as Genji squints at him, ”Yes, this is about Hanzo.”

”What’s he gotten himself into?”

”Adulthood, I’m afraid.”

Genji lifts his brows, and Sojiro seats himself on the edge of his table rather than in the chair behind it. His eyes wander towards the window and Genji notices how much whiter the hair over his jaw has gotten since he last paid attention, which must have not been that long ago. The late morning’s light floods the room with golden glow and even the oyabun looks less weary in it, less worn out by his rough life, although the expression on him is still burdened and thoughtful. Finally, he turns back towards his son.

”We both know what Hanzo is. You must have not thought about it much, as for you, he has always been above all your elder brother and naturally his sex has nothing to do with that role, but for me, it has always been a cause for concern. How can an omega lead an empire after I’m gone? How will I ensure that our generals, our allies, our own ranks, listen to someone whose kind is barely seen - much less heard - in our society?”

”Hanzo is a born leader, I’m sure -”

”It matters very little. He will still come of age, and he will still submit to his cycle like any other omega. What can I do for him, I’ve asked myself; how can I ensure that when the time comes, he won’t have to lose face in front of those who are sworn to follow him, for no other reason than his biology? It is a powerful force - but he did not choose it.”

Genji leans forwards in his chair, a sense of discomfort blooming in his chest. He pulls his leg over the other and hugs it, then leans his chin over his knee, his eyes on his father.

”I don’t... see how this is any of my business, Father. He’s my brother.”

”One day, he will be your oyabun.”

”And then whatever goes on inside his pants will be even less a concern of mine, I hope.”

”I wish it was that simple. No, Genji; you will depend on him, more than you depend on him now. When I’m gone, all that you call your home will fall on Hanzo’s shoulders, and it will be his to uphold, his to defend, and his to build... or destroy. Our family, our traditions, our wealth and our power rest with him. Yours, too, as little as you care for it now - there will be a day when you see things differently, and when that time comes, you will appreciate the foundations your brother’s power will stand on. Do you see how important it is that no question will be placed on his capability, will and right to rule? The slightest doubt can grow into chaos. Chaos results in weakness in structures, and weak structures fall. When your brother was born, I asked your mother to wait for a second son, but she looked at your brother and she told me that he was the one and would always be the one no matter what other people would say; that the dragon spirit ran strong within him, and he would serve our clan well. I asked her again when you were born if she’d changed her mind; you were a strong, healthy alpha boy in her arms, and I saw no difference between you and your brother in spirit or power. I told her that Hanzo was barely three years old, he would not contest your right to inherit my power should we decide to grant it to you. She laughed at me, Genji, and told me that I was old and foolish and had bad eyesight if I claimed that I didn’t see the potential within Hanzo. It took me years, but I finally understood what she meant - I am sure that you do, too.”

Genji lowers his gaze to the floor. His heart races a little faster than before and his thoughts seem stunned at the glimpse to a different life his father’s words gave him - a life where he’d be the one standing in Hanzo’s place, looking over a kingdom of drugs and death to call his own. He shudders, and a huff escapes him.

”I’m glad that our mother was wiser than you,” he says then, daring to lift his gaze back to his father, ”I would have been a lousy heir, and walked out the moment your cold, dead body would have given way. One way or the other, Hanzo would have ended up with this mess anyway.”

Sojiro laughs.  
”Like I said, you will see things differently one day - at least that is what I hope in my heart.”  
Then, slowly, the smile on him fades and he turns towards the window again.  
”What I am about to ask of you is going to make you hate me, but I hope that you’ll let me explain before you run off. You must understand that this is not about me, or about our house or the clan that you don’t care for; this is about your brother and his future. You know how much these things mean to Hanzo - how different he is from you in his love for our house, in his passion and loyalty towards the clan. You know the battles he’s fought to be where he is now despite his birthright and against his nature, and how it would destroy him to lose these things because of what he is.”

”My brother is a dragon. How could anyone contest that just because he’s an omega?”

A small chuckle escapes Sojiro.  
”You’ve never been with an omega yet, then, if you do not know. I don’t know if that soothes me or makes it more difficult for me to continue. Life is easy for us, son; society caters to us, and we are, by default, regarded as powerful and respectable just because we are alphas. We are strong and no one would question our claim to power. No one ever questioned mine. For an omega, things are quite different. Have you ever thought about that, Genji? Have you ever listened to what is said about omegas on the streets? How people talk of them, how people refer to them, how people treat them?”

”Of course, but -”

”You think your brother is an exception.”

Genji hesitates. His world shifts a little and he pulls his other leg up on the chair as well as if to protect himself from something. Then, he nods.  
”He’s not weak, Father.”

”Of course he’s not. I raised that boy. I’ve made sure there isn’t one drop of weak blood in his veins, that it is pure iron, and that he’ll stand against any obstacle proud and strong like a Shimada should. And all these years that I did that, I’ve heard what was said about it - that I was wasting my time trying to make a man out of a breeding whore, that no matter how hard I would train him to stand, he’d end up on his knees anyway. Worse things have been said, but as you said, you are his brother, and I don’t think you need to hear them.”

The silence rings in Genji’s ears as he swallows. His eyes drop towards the floor and he shudders. Of course, he’s heard these things - not about Hanzo, but of other omegas. Worse yet, he’s often been the one laughing along with the belittling jokes, or even the one making them, but not of his brother, no, Hanzo’s - Hanzo’s different. He’s not like the sweet-scented girls and boys pressing against Genji’s body in the dark of a club, the ones whose breath smells of pheromones and whose voices shatter with need. He’s proud, independent: he’d never be the omega crawling on all fours to an alpha’s lap, pleading to be claimed, to be pleased, to be needed. The things that Genji’s said, that he’s heard, he’s never thought that they would apply to the other omegas, the ones who stay off the clubs, the ones like Hanzo that he knows exist, quietly and out of the places the others go to seek a mate.

Slowly, he lifts his gaze.

”You’re not - setting him up, are you?” he asks, ”With an alpha?”

Sojiro’s eyes turn for the window again, and for a long while, he’s quiet.  
”What can I do, Genji? I cannot let him have a natural heat. That would be catastrophic for his reputation. To prevent that, it needs to be taken care of in advance. I’ve pushed it off for too long; I wanted him to be ready for it, but he’s already showing the first stages as we speak. It leaves me with very few options, and I’ve given each... as much thought as I could. To have it be done away with quietly, of course, the first thought I had was to hire an alpha - a prostitute - to claim him. Would that not be easy? To quietly bury the issue before it really even surfaces, by using someone so disposable that if they happened to disappear afterwards, well... it would be unlikely that anyone would notice or care. But this is Hanzo we’re speaking of; the heir of my bloodline, the one who will rule this clan. Should the word ever get out that he was claimed by a whore - it would hardly be any better than letting him rut his way through whichever cock he would land on. Others would view him differently knowing that; wasted and permanently stained by the alpha whose claim on him would last to his death.”

Genji’s mouth feels dry. He doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to think about these things.

”Could I, then, simply marry him off to one of our most loyal generals? Give him away like a reward for life-long service? I know many from our ranks who would deserve such a promotion.”

Sojiro’s eyes move back over Genji, and Genji, despite the chill in his stomach, tries to answer that gaze.

”You can’t do that,” Genji says weakly.

”Why not?” Sojiro asks calmly, examining him with interest.

”It would take away his status. Put the alpha in a position of power over him. He would be -”

”Like a consort,” Sojiro finishes; ”Indeed. I would shift the power of our family to the hands of someone who shares no true blood with us. I would give away my empire, and condemn Hanzo to the life of a bystander. That is not what I raised him to be. Certainly, the heirs to that alpha would still have the Shimada blood in them, but who knows what would happen after I would die? Who guarantees that this arrangement would last? I trust my men, but I do not trust them with my legacy.”

”So can’t you just - I know there are surgeries. There are ways to, uh -”

Sojiro cuts his son off.  
”What value does an infertile omega have, Genji?”

Genji pulls back in his chair. This time, it’s his eyes that meet the window.

None, he thinks. Barren omegas are seen as useless and purposeless; they are never spoken of, never referred to, and remain invisible and unwanted on the sidelines of society, often seeking employment in child care or nursing, but never gaining a status for themselves. They rarely marry and if it happens, it would be assumed there’s something wrong with the alpha, too - historically, a homosexual or infertile alpha would take a barren omega as their companion to cover up for themselves, to shift the blame for their own inability to procreate on the more obvious culprit. The stigma has never worn off.

He can’t get the words out, however, and finally, Sojiro accepts his silence.

”So what can I do, Genji?” he asks quietly, and Genji shrugs.

”Just let him do what he does. Let him find someone.”

”In a week, less than, when he’s shown no interest in anyone - alpha or otherwise - to this day? Could I trust his heat to choose a partner worthy of our empire? Could I trust his instincts to match up with his feelings later? Who the hell knows what kind of a useless mutt he’d let breed him, Genji? No - letting his heat choose is the worst option of all. You know this. Even if you’ve never claimed an omega, you know how little they care whose seed it is that fills them.”

”Don’t - speak of Hanzo like that.”

”I am not speaking of Hanzo. I’m speaking of his sex, which is a fact that I do not have the same luxury to ignore as you do. Genji, I would love to wait until you realise it, but I have to leave in an hour and I refuse to push this matter back any further. As I said, I have no other choice left - if you can come up with a better one here and now, then please let me hear it, but before then, let me tell you what I see as the only choice we have to save your brother’s honour and his standing in the clan.”

The chill spreads from Genji’s stomach to his fingertips and toes, but despite it, and despite the way his body trembles with anxiety, he faces his father once more, lips thin and white as they push together and eyes wide and scared.

”It will have to be one of us, Genji.”

The ringing silence returns.

”I do not want to be the one who takes him. I cannot bear the thought of it. I raised this boy, Genji, I did it all on my own. But no one will question it if we cull the matter, keep it within the bloodline. This would not be the first time, nor will it be the last; families in power have done it throughout the history, and sometimes, I suppose it is... the lesser of evils. If you take him before he goes in heat, even if we make sure that the coupling will not result in a child, he will not have it, not this first time. After being claimed, an omega will never experience a heat like an unclaimed one would. He will not go looking for another alpha. He will not have to risk shame and dishonour because of his nature any longer. There are other means to help a claimed omega through his season - you would only have to do this once, and then never again. You can still claim another, and Hanzo will never have to find himself with the child of someone who did not deserve him or his bloodline.”

Without realising it, Genji’s standing up. His breath is stuck in his chest and his nostrils burn, and his eyes are wide and there’s not a trace left of fear in him - all he has is outrage and disbelief.

”I will never,” he breathes out, ”do that to my brother.”

”You misunderstand me,” Sojiro sighs - he’s already picking up his things from the table, preparing to leave, and the normalcy of it only fuels Genji’s anger. ”I am not asking, Genji. This is a command.”

”You don’t control me. You can’t make me do that!”

The look that Sojiro gives him, as brief as it is, is full of fire despite the calm in his expression.  
”So you wish for me to do it instead?”

”No - neither of us does _shit_ to him, that’s off the fucking -”

”Don’t speak to me like that.”  
Sojiro picks up his phone and drops it in his pocket. He looks around his table, sighs, and starts walking towards the door. As he passes, Genji grabs his sleeve.

”You’re not doing this,” Genji hisses, ”Hanzo -”

”- specifically asked that it would be you, not me, when we discussed the matter.”

Something slimy and heavy slips down Genji’s throat. His grip breaks, leaving the oyabun’s sleeve wrinkled.

”You’ve - he’s - you spoke with him?”

”Of course I spoke with my first-born son about the matters that directly relate to his future as my heir. We’ve discussed each option that I explained to you and he sees things my way. He also predicted that you would not, and asked that I would at least tell you that - in his own words - he would rather die than be sold like cattle at the market, or have to bear the pain of being claimed by his own father. I would, also, rather die than do that to him, but ultimately, I will do whatever it takes to ensure his future and that of our clan’s. Genji... this, if nothing else, is what you will have to do for us. If you will not do it for the clan then do it for the brother you love; every alternative you have the choice to abandon him to will be worse than the one that you would share with him.”

Sojiro pulls his fist over his sleeve, straightens it and takes a deep breath.

”Do it soon,” he says as he reaches for the door to pull it aside, ”Hanzo’s running out of time.”

 

* * *

 

Genji walks - runs, most of the way - to the temple. He hesitates there, lingering about the gardens and in the shades of the rōmon and then of the other buildings, before finally daring to enter it. His hands shake as he lights an incense, and although he tries to quiet his mind for a prayer, all he really wants to do - and manages - is an endless, silent scream that rings through his brain, incoherently throwing words that seem to bounce off his skull and back inside him repeatedly. He stands there for a long while, listening to the rain pouring over the rooftop above with the smell of dust that the prior heat of the day lifted off the ground and which the rain is now turning into wet mud, and when he finally lifts his head and lets his eyes open, he hasn’t managed to speak to the deities at all. All he’s done is scream to them, over and over; ultimately, he thinks they’ll understand.

They’ll know what he’s there for and they’ll understand and if they don’t - well - they’re not the kinds of deities that Genji, or anyone, needs.

He doesn’t know where else to go. The thought of returning inside the castle’s walls fills him with dread and twists his stomach to the point of sickness, but just the same he ignores the buzzing messages from his friends asking where he is - why he hasn’t showed up at the arcade yet, and if he’s still coming for drinks later. Still, after hours of soaking in the downpour that appeared as if from nowhere, he drags himself to the station, hops into the train and meets his friends beside a mall. They ask questions, of course, but Genji forces a smile on him and laughs off the remarks about his soaked clothes and his pale, chilled features; he drags mud all over the mall floors, spends all too much money on new clothes, and ditches the old ones in the trash.

Somehow, they all seem tainted by the earlier conversation anyway; if he never sees them again, if he never has to wear today against his skin again, then good.

They pick a club and enter it. Two hours later, they pick another; by one in the morning, Genji’s almost brave enough to go back home.

Almost.

All that time, he can’t get his eyes off the omega of their group. Ayako is pretty and slender with wide hips and hair up to her waist; she’s got bright eyes and more brain than is good for her. He’s never looked at her as an omega before - she married when she was 19, and Genji never knew her before she’d been claimed.

She’s doing well.

Why can’t it be like that for Hanzo, too?

 

* * *

 

The night’s still black and drizzles when Genji sneaks through the gates and jogs across the courtyard. He tries to pass Hanzo in the corridor, he really tries; all he wants is just to go to bed, turn off the lights, and forget about the day. His older brother, wearing light, black night robes with cherry blossoms embroidered on his wide sleeves and the hem just barely touching his bare ankles, simply steps in front of him to stop him, however.

”Father told me to wait for you,” Hanzo tells him, his voice quiet and low.

Genji can’t look at him. Not in the eye or anywhere near him, really, so he stares at the walls instead, at the ceiling, and at the wooden floors underneath his feet.

”Hanzo, please - I just want to sleep. ’s been a long day.”

”I know he spoke to you.”

”Well, we do talk, sometimes.”

”Don’t play stupid, Genji.”

Hesitantly, Genji forces himself to look at his brother. Hanzo’s long hair’s undone, half of it tucked behind his ear and half hanging wild and loose over his face and shoulder, and there’s a dark look in his eyes, a sharpness that Genji has most often seen in them when he’s wielding a blade or a bow - when he’s about to kill, or practicing to do it.

”I can’t do it, _anija._ I can’t. So just - just let me go. Let me go to sleep.”

Gathering up his courage, Genji pushes past Hanzo, and for a fleeting moment, he feels relief - he’s past him, really past him, almost at the door of his own bedroom. And then, suddenly, he feels a firm grip over his clothes, and Hanzo slams him against the wall between the rooms, pushes him up against it and presses up close.

”Why can’t you, for once in your life, think about someone other than yourself?” he hisses, and Genji finds himself wondering if this is how those people feel who end up on the wrong side of Hanzo’s blade - if this is the last thing they see.

It really isn’t that bad, he realises.

”You’ll wake Father,” he breathes out, mumbles like a small child.

Hanzo’s grip over him loosens - the man steps back, but never releases Genji completely.

”If you really think he’s sleeping, you’re dumber than you look,” he says instead, cocking his head towards his bedroom.

Shuddering, Genji follows him in. As he watches the light from the corridor dim down as Hanzo slides the door closed - as he hears it slip in place, completely silencing the castle around them like they’re suddenly inside a different realm - his focus shifts to the scent lingering about him, as if stuck to his clothes. He breathes in, and when he does, it sends an electric prickling through his spine and up his neck; it raises the hair on the back of his neck, and with a quiet gasp, his eyes instinctively seek out Hanzo, looking for guidance or explanation. His brother leans back against the shōji, and his eyes turn from the tatami floor of the bedroom back up at Genji. For a moment, there’s a stillness between them that Hanzo eventually breaks with a sigh.

”I know what you’re thinking,” he says, and in the silence of the space his quiet voice carries perfectly clear to Genji’s ears, ”I’ve tried to stay inside to avoid letting the whole city know.”

”It’s not... that strong, really.”

”But you can read it perfectly well. So can anyone else who gets close enough. Do you think I want to sit at a meeting like this? Do you think our father would even let me in - can you imagine how distracting it would be? No. I’m staying here, whether I like it or not. It’ll only get worse.”

With a shiver, Genji lets his bag slide down his shoulder. It flops on the floor, mostly empty if not for his wallet, his phone and a scarf he took off some hours earlier when it started itching around his neck. There’s little light in the room - only a dimly shining, golden orb of light hovers idly above its basin beside Hanzo’s bed, spreading its warm glow against the blue light casting through the open windows. Still, it’s a warm atmosphere. Genji’s always liked Hanzo’s room, secretly maybe more than his own. Everything here seems to radiate a peaceful aura, and nothing is out of place. His own, well, it’s a mess of colours, lights and piles of laundry and gadgets.

”When I said I can’t do it, anija, I wasn’t - it’s not because of _me_ ,” he says then.

”That’s what you tell yourself.”

”No, it isn’t. Well, rather, it’s not _just_ because of me. I don’t want to do it. Sure. I don’t want to be your alpha - the thought makes me sick. But that’s not why I’m - that’s - if I didn’t care, anija, I’d walk out now. I don’t have any reason to stay; I hate this place, I hate everything it stands for, and now I’m being forced into something that... there aren’t words for what’s being asked of me. If it was _just_ because this whole thing disgusts me, I wouldn’t be here now. I had the whole day to catch a train as far as I can get from here, and I have enough money, money that Father can’t take away from me once I’m gone, to start over somewhere else if I wanted to. But when I say I _can’t_ do this - not that I don’t _want_ to do this - I’m saying it because I can’t put you through it. I can’t do it to you. There’s no way.”

Hanzo pushes himself off the shōji. His bare feet make no sound as he moves to his bed and sits down on his knees on it, running his palm over the sheets as his gaze moves around the walls before stopping by the reading light.

”You can’t put me through it?” he repeats quietly. ”So to you, it is easier to know that even though refusing it means that I will inevitably be claimed by _someone_ , at least you aren’t to blame for the damage it does? You’d rather let anyone else do it, regardless of how I feel or who else it might be, as long as it means _you_ did not put me through it. I understand. You may go, then.”

There’s a flood of adrenaline through Genji’s veins. The anger from earlier rushes back, but he really doesn’t know who to fight. Certainly, aiming a fist directly in Hanzo’s face would be satisfying, but ultimately, Hanzo isn’t the reason he’s in this shit now. Despite his fisted hands, he pushes himself forwards, closer to the bed, and crouches beside it. Finger by finger, his fists unclench.

”You don’t have to do this,” he breathes out.

”No. I suppose I can just do what the other omegas do that have nobody else to turn to - go to one of your clubs and get myself filled up in the alley behind it until I can’t remember my own name, and then carry a stranger’s child for the next nine months. I’m certain I can still return to rule over the clan once that ordeal is behind us, but what really matters is that at least it won’t get your hands dirty.”

”Hanzo, please, stop -”

”What do you want, Genji? For me to tell you that it will be just fine, that you can go to bed and I can just stop my body from doing the one thing it has been hardwired to do, and we never have to think about this again? You can walk away, Genji, but I cannot. No matter your choice, I’m going to have to live with the consequences. Did Father tell you? Did he tell you that if you won’t, he will?”

Slowly, his legs feeling wholly unreliable, Genji lowers himself on the bed. He sits a man’s width away from Hanzo at the very edge, half of his butt on the tatami, but even at this range he can smell his brother again, and even though he tries not to breathe the scent in, it penetrates his senses regardless. It makes him feel funny - on edge, certainly, but not in the way he would have expected. Rather, it seems to emphasis things that he already feels, amongst them the desperate need to get Hanzo out of this damn mess, to _protect_ him, as if he could do anything to achieve that. He feels tears stinging in his eyes but hopes that even though he turns to look at Hanzo, the low level of lighting will hide the worst of it.

”Is there - really no other way out of this?” he asks, ”Suppressants, contraceptives, something?”

”Do you have any idea how dangerous suppressants are for someone - unclaimed, like me? You can’t use them for the first heat; it would probably kill me. Though... the thought is not entirely unpleasant.”

”Hanzo, don’t. Don’t even joke about it.”

”No. If I need an easy way out, there are better ways to do it.”

They’re quiet again for a brief moment. Then, Hanzo chuckles.

”As for the alternative - are you suggesting that the solution to my problem really is to get filled up in an alley behind a club?”

Genji groans.  
”No,” he hisses, ”I’m just trying to figure out a way - any way - that...”

”Why is this such a big shock to you? This is what I am. You have always known that. You’re an alpha, Genji, you should _know_ what being an omega means. Did you really think it didn’t apply to me?”

”To be honest, Hanzo, I’ve never given a fuck about your - whatever; the only thing you’ve ever been to me is my brother.”

There’s a passing glimpse of warmth in Hanzo’s gaze, enough to show Genji that his words hit the mark. The older brother shifts; he pulls his legs more firmly underneath him, the soft fabric of his clothes pooling below his knees and around his shins. Then, with a small sigh, he leans to the side and lets his pose fall apart; his hips shift down from on top of his legs, the side of them colliding with the soft mattress, and his hand sinks into the bed to support him. With the other one, he gathers his loose hair back behind his ear.

”I would rather it be you,” he says then, his eyes firmly upon the floor, ”than anybody else. Especially our father. I would - it would kill me. The thought of it...”

”Why is it any better with me?”

That gets Genji a gaze, although a surprised one.

”How could it not be better? Put yourself in my place. Pretend that you cannot walk away from this, that you have to choose - that you have to make this choice. Even with the rest of them - those that were considered, I - would still, I think I would... it rather be you. Do you not understand? You are the only person I would trust with my life - the only one I know will still respect me in the morning. Even if you can never look me in the eye again, at least I will know that you loved me, and I will know why you have to turn away.”

With a shaky gasp, Genji pulls up his legs and presses his face against his knees. His tears wet the fabric stretching over his legs and he can still smell the store between the threads, and for the time being, that smell drowns out the strangely comforting, deep scent that lingers about his brother. He tries not to hiccup or sob loud enough to show exactly how hard he’s crying, but he can’t push it back anymore, the feeling of being trapped mixing together with the sense of dread he feels for his brother. Beside him, Hanzo reaches out to touch the golden orb; it dims out until the room bathes in dark blue.

For some minutes, Genji feels as if his life is draining out of him. When he finally pulls up his head, there’s only a sensation of weight pressing in his chest, and a desperation like which he’s never felt before.

”I’ll - if it’s what you really want, what you... what you really need - I will do it,” he speaks into the darkness without looking at Hanzo, ”If it means you’re still alive two weeks from now, I’ll do it. Because you’re my best friend, anija, and because I can hear it in your voice - when you say that you’ll die - I know that you mean it. And I don’t think, Hanzo, I don’t think I could live with that.”

If he expected relief from his brother, he gets none. Instead, Hanzo nods tensely, and in the same fashion moves down on the bed on his side. Genji stares at him, the black of his clothes and hair that so easily disappears into the dark and contrasts so heavily with his skin, which in the darkness appears lighter than the tan that Genji knows so well from their days training outside.

”You’re not - you don’t mean - right now?” Genji manages to spit out, his eyes turning for the door, anywhere but at Hanzo.

”Do you have something more urgent to attend to?” the older brother asks in a colourless tone.

Slowly, Genji shakes his head. He stands up, walks a short distance from the bed and stops there. His fingers are cold when he grabs the hem of his shirt and tries to pull it over his head. There’s not much of it, but somehow, getting even that off him seems a task too complicated to perform. In a moment, he gives up and turns half-way back towards Hanzo.

”Can we just - does it have to be...?”

”You don’t have to undress any more than necessary. I would prefer it if you didn’t, but I won’t stop you if - that makes it easier for you.”

”No. It doesn’t.”

With stiff limbs, Genji returns to the bed. This time, he sits in the middle, right next to Hanzo, whose knees bend on his one side and one elbow on the other; he’s twisted his upper body to face the ceiling, but the lower half still rests sideways, and all in all he looks like someone’s already put a bullet into him. Swallowing, Genji drags his fingers through the other’s black hair spread over the bed just underneath the pillow’s bump; Hanzo doesn’t complain.

”What’s it like?” Genji asks quietly, ”Going through it... for the first time.”

”I don’t know. I’m not ’going through it’ yet. I would prefer it if I never had to, but even after tonight, I suppose I cannot put it off forever.”

Genji nods. He withdraws his fingers, rests his hand on his lap instead. Hanzo turns to look at him; he examines him in silence for a moment before speaking again.

”I can close the curtains, make it dark so that you can pretend I’m someone else,” he says, but Genji shakes his head.

”I don’t want to think of anyone else. I’m doing this for you. I want to be with you through it. I think I’ll break if I’m not.”

It’s Hanzo’s turn to nod. Once more, he looks away, and so does Genji. For a long while, nothing happens. Then, Hanzo reaches his hand for his brother; his palm presses over Genji’s shoulder and pulls him back, and softly, Genji falls over him, turning around on the way down. He slips his arm over Hanzo’s body and presses his elbow into the mattress on the other side for support, but this close, he can feel the other’s warmth against his own body and the scent about him fills his senses. Still, it does nothing for him, not in the sense that an omega’s scent should - somehow, he’s happy about that, but saying it out loud scares him. He knows it’s not a problem with him; he’s been around omegas just about to enter heat and he knows how the scent’s supposed to mess with him. It’s something about Hanzo, something that attracts him surely enough but not in the way that an omega should. There’s nothing about him, nothing at all, that would make this easier for Genji. Nothing, really, that could even remotely bypass the force with which his entire being is keeping him from so much as making a move to complete the task given to him.

_The task._

Like it was any duty assigned to him over the years.

He breathes out and closes his eyes. Hanzo’s hand presses against his head and his fingers comb through Genji’s hair, unusually soft under his touch no doubt since he never took the time to style it today, and the rain still lingers amongst the strands as a weight from before. When he looks at Hanzo again, he feels strangely torn, like he’s not entirely sure what he’s seeing; on one hand, his brother is beautiful. His dark hair spreads like cracks in a mirror around his head, and he’s got a subtle pout on his face, a locked-up look that somehow only makes him look more like a figure in a painting. On the other, looking at him makes Genji feel like he’s looking at his own reflection - for every shape and angle that isn’t the same about them, there are two other things that he sees every day looking at himself.

”How am I supposed to do this?” he asks.

Hanzo seems to shrug, but the gesture is subtle and Genji’s not sure if it is, after all, just a small cock of his head to a vague direction. Still, he feels the other shifting underneath him, and with his own eyes closed, Genji follows him in; he settles between the man’s legs and tries to remember what it feels like with a girl, but the only thing in his mind is how he used to lay there as a little kid, elbows digging into the grass as he leaned his head above Hanzo’s stomach blowing raspberries at him. He’s not sure if Hanzo remembers the same thing, but he feels his hands guiding him down until he’s resting on top of him, and that’s where they both stop. While Hanzo’s hands run slowly over the stretch of Genji’s shoulders and upper back and hair, Genji doesn’t know what to do with his own. In the end he puts his elbows down into the mattress like that little boy used to do, and he grips Hanzo’s robes, the light fabric bending in his fists like woven water, and he holds it, eyes closed, and wishes that this could be everything.

He feels the gentle hold of Hanzo’s thighs on both sides of his waist, how they press up against him, and just about everything about the way they lie there is the same as it was in their childhood. Shaking, Genji forces his fists open, and as he runs them down Hanzo’s waist and over onto his stomach, he can’t look him in the eye. His palms press flat against his brother’s form, then move up along his body - down just doesn’t seem to be an option - and his fingers bend over his ribs, gathering the cloth he’s wearing into a bunch underneath his fingertips. Then, his breath hitching, Genji pulls himself on his knees again, and he drags his hands down over onto Hanzo’s hips.

He’s never touched them before. His brother’s stomach, his sides, his waist and even his thighs are something that Genji’s definitely touched in his life, either as a kid clinging to the bigger boy, or during training, trying to free himself from some grip squeezing the life out of him, but he can’t remember ever pressing his palms over the bumps of the other’s hip, and there’s something really, really wrong with it, and it doesn't seem to be a matter of intimacy but rather of power; when holding him like this, Genji feels as if he simply has too much control over his older brother. Meanwhile, Hanzo’s legs still rest against him, more closed than open, which to Genji reads as a subtle confirmation that he isn’t any more into this than Genji himself.

Shouldn’t it be different? Certainly, Genji knows he’s got the scent of an alpha - he’s had it for years, ever since he was barely more than a child and the way others suddenly reacted to his presence still scared him. And Hanzo’s an omega; up this close, even with the half-hearted way that Genji’s trying to touch him, he should be... it should be making him -

Another shudder runs through Genji. No - the very thought of that makes him feel sick.

”I’m not - doing much to you, am I,” he breathes out quietly.

Hanzo lets out a choked sound of - surprise? He gathers himself up on his elbows and tilts his head, eyes squinted.

”What were you expecting?”

”I mean - what would I normally expect? I’m an alpha, you’re an omega, this should... work out, and it’s... not doing that.”

For a moment, he feels infinitely smaller underneath the stare that Hanzo gives him. Then the older brother sighs, falling back onto the mattress. His fingertips tread through his hair and then get stuck in it, and he turns his head to the side, staring at the seam between the wall and the tatami.

”I don’t know who to blame,” Hanzo lets out, his voice strained between frustration and void, ”You, for being as ignorant as you are, or the society that thinks you don’t need to know - I suppose both of you are at blame.”

”What?” Genji groans, and his voice, definitely, has the tone of frustration overwhelming it.  
He leans back on his knees and rests his arms on top of Hanzo’s, bringing his legs closer together so that he can land his weight on them.

Hanzo gives him a prideful little sneer, then looks away again.

”How do you think a family can raise an alpha child and an omega child together, Genji? Think about it. How segregated have you been from me?”

”I haven’t.”

”Precisely. All our lives, we’ve been closer than any alpha and omega out there could ever be without - incident. How many siblings do you think there are like us? Why do you think our own parents don’t end up chasing after us the second we start presenting? Have you honestly gone through your entire life never once thinking about this?”

”I haven’t exactly -”

”Had to. No, you have not. God, your life has been easy.”

They stare at each other. Then, Hanzo climbs back up; he sits now, his knees bending lower by just enough that Genji can’t lean on them anymore. Instead, the younger brother pushes his palm back into the bed and rests his weight on that instead, and the fact that like this he’s once more smaller than his brother makes him feel oddly comforted.

”I haven’t had the same privilege, Genji.”

”So - why?”

”Because nature is infinitely wiser than we are. It does not care about our legacy - the only thing it cares about is our survivability, the likelihood that our offspring is born healthy. I thought you knew it; I would have expected that if you didn’t, you would have, by now, realised that my scent does nothing to you and said something. Now that you haven’t, I am - concerned that there was nothing there for you to notice.”

A flood of heat crashes over Genji’s face.  
”That’s not it,” he groans, ”I just - I thought if I could get you...”  
He can’t bring himself to say the word ’slick’, so he swallows it.  
”I thought I’d manage somehow.”

He’s about to look down, his mind empty, when suddenly a horrifying realisation hits him and he looks up at Hanzo again.

”He knew it. Father - knows it.”

”Of course he knows it.”

”He _knew_ it, and - he still sent me here? To what, to rape you?”

Hanzo’s brows lift ever so slightly.  
”What... did you expect, then?”

Genji’s horizon sways. He pulls up his cold hand from the bed, rests it on his lap, and realises that he needs to throw up. He’s half-way up from the bed, already crouching, when the sensation passes and he’s just trembling there, arms on his knees and his toes deep in the mattress, eyes wide and heart racing in his throat.

”No,” he hears himself say, ”He wouldn’t do that.”

”Genji -”

”That can’t be the price you have to pay for being born you, Hanzo.”

”It is the price I have to pay for honour.”

”Honour? There’s no fucking honour in this, and I won’t fucking do it. No - don’t fucking touch me, alright?”

Genji deflects Hanzo’s hand, uncaring what it tried to do as it approached him. He hits it to the side, shaking, his whole body tense, and it takes him a moment to realise that his reaction - his agitation, his stance, his tone of voice - made Hanzo flinch. Blinking, he tries to understand it; never in his life has he scared his brother, not once. Then it hits him, and now more than ever, he realises what being an alpha means. It’s his scent mixing with the adrenaline in him, the way he’s suddenly almost a head above his brother, and the way that Hanzo has nowhere to go from here. It’s the fact that Genji’s not the one locked in that room for the sole purpose of being raped, and he’s not the one scared, with his whole body expecting to be torn and violated against its nature and against his own will.

Certainly, Genji doesn’t want to be here, but it’s Hanzo who has no other choice.

Slowly, his stance falls apart and so does the tension in him, and he sees the way his brother glances at him, the way his eyes quickly measure the threat he presents to him, before Hanzo relaxes, too.

”Are you done?” Hanzo asks him, his voice breaking almost unnoticeably.

”Yeah. I’m done,” Genji mutters, looking away, ”Sorry.”

Hanzo nods. Then, before a silence can make Genji reconsider it, he leans forwards and wraps his arms around his brother, and he pulls him against him. For a moment, Hanzo seems to consider struggling free - he’s tense and his fingertips dig into Genji’s chest, but then, as if on a second thought, he relaxes into the hold instead. He drags in a shaky breath and nuzzles his head against his brother’s shoulder, and Genji leans his head in, closing his eyes.

”I can’t do it, Hanzo. I tried, and I’m sorry, but I’m not enough of a psychopath.”

A small chuckle escapes Hanzo, and he shakes his head.

”I don’t think I’ve got it in me, either.”

”I promise to figure out something else. I promise I’ll get you out of this. I don’t know what the hell I can do, but - I’ll find another way.”

”Stay here,” Hanzo says, bypassing the desperate words spoken, and Genji knows he’s grateful for them even though he doesn’t trust them or believe in them, ”So that we can pretend, for at least one or two days, that this worked.”

Genji nods.

”So, what, for the next weekend, we’re fake married?”

Hanzo groans, but the sound ends up in a laugh. This time, at least, he sounds relieved.  
”I guess so.”

 

* * *

 

The night hours tick by. Genji’s propped up against the pillow, the screen of his phone illuminating the corner he’s backed into. Beside him, Hanzo’s asleep; it took him a good while, but in the end, his breathing settled and his body, curled up with his knees pressing against Genji’s hips and his forehead almost touching Genji’s arm, relaxed.

The morning is more difficult. There are a few smiles and choked laughter exchanged between the two of them, but the moment Hanzo’s back in his day clothes and Genji, well, at least ready to walk out of the room, they grow silent and tense again. For most of the morning, Genji doesn’t see Hanzo again, and he does his damn best to avoid seeing his father either - the anger, the hurt from last night still hasn’t settled, and he’s afraid that if he walks into the oyabun now, he’ll break his role immediately and try to do something that he really, really shouldn’t. On his way to the courtyard, however, with a steaming mug of green tea in one hand, he spots Sojiro climbing up to his office. There’s a chilling sensation of sheer rage that enters him at the sight, and the expression on his face has to betray it so he turns his head away as quickly as he can and leaves the room and the whole castle with haste.

Outside, he hops up on a smooth stone underneath a cherry tree, closes his eyes and breathes; after sipping his tea, he pulls up his phone again and carries on where he had to stop in the morning.

Some minutes later, footsteps alert him to close the map on his phone. Instead, he opens a night club’s website with the opening hours clearly visible upon it and pretends extreme interest in it until Hanzo’s shape appears into view: recognising it, he lets out a deep sigh and drops his phone on his lap.

”We need to talk,” he tells Hanzo in a low voice, both afraid that someone might hear them and that the other will simply walk past him, although Hanzo doesn’t look like he’s there for any other reason.

Subtly, Hanzo nods; he walks to Genji and settles against the cherry tree, a cup of his own in hand.

”Alright, look. I didn’t sleep last night, not one damn bit, and I’ve gone through this over and over again and I know you won’t like it, but I want you to at least consider it, okay? Promise me.”

Hanzo tilts his head; his eyes linger on Genji for a moment before he turns them towards the canopy above him, squinting at the sunlight that peeks through it.

”I’m taking your silence as an agreement,” Genji sighs, ”Okay, so, the other options aren’t going to work out. I’m not going to watch you get raped by anyone at all, so as long as you don’t have someone you want to go through this with, it’s not happening.”

”And how do you propose we stop it from happening?” Hanzo asks the tree in a tired voice, as if this is a question he's had to ask a million times.

Genji wants to kick him.  
”We take the only option that didn’t include rape.”

Slowly, Hanzo turns his gaze back to him.

”You’re not the only person who ever had to go through this, you know?” Genji continues, ”You’re not the only omega whose parents thought it’d be honourable to fuck you up for life and take away your chances of ever forming a family the way you want to do it and the way you should do it and, yeah, the way nature wanted you to do it. You’re not the only one who’s being forced into accepting the wrong alpha’s claim, and you’re not even the only one, historically speaking, whose parents thought it’s a matter of pride to keep it in the family. Luckily - you’re also not the only one with a really stubborn sibling.”

They both sip their teas, and in the warmth of the late spring’s afternoon, the breeze that travels past them smells of sweet flowers and ramen from the restaurant just behind the walls.

”So, Father claimed that getting you fixed isn’t an option, and I agree, it shouldn’t be. Like I said - I want you to have the choice, that if you ever find someone, you can make it on your own, you know; like everybody should. But betas have gone back and forth for centuries, it’s just a taboo for an omega to do the same, right? So suppressing the heat is out of question since your body needs to go through it to mature and survive, and you’d be right about that. You were also right that I’ve never taken the damn time out of my day to research anything about your life - I’ve been so stuck up with my own perception of you that apparently I never cared what the world really looked like for you, or other people like you. Well, I’d like to think that I’ve made up for that now that I’ve spent some... ten hours doing nothing but trying to figure out if it’s possible to do to you what they can do to beta females. And, it is. It is possible. It takes a surgery, alright, but it’s pretty minor and entirely reversible - you’ll still get your heats but they’ll be even less obvious than a claimed omega’s, so you should be, you know, mostly alright despite that.”

Genji’s hands are shaking again. He tucks his cup between his legs and picks up his phone, runs his fingertip through the history menu and opens up a page. He throws the phone to Hanzo, who catches it with ease. For a moment, he reads through the page quietly. Then, his expression unreadable, he hands the phone back to Genji.

”If we did this,” he says, ”someone would find out.”

”If we do it in Japan,” Genji agrees, ”But not if we go to China. Taking a quick flight, we’d be there and done and back in, say, about a day. Maybe a little suspicious, but I’m sure you can find _some_ excuse to go to China for the clan’s sake. And for once, I can actually take care of it so that you can get your hospital trip done in the meanwhile. I’m not completely useless, see?”

Hanzo frowns. He stares at Genji for a long time, both hands wrapped around the steaming cup on his lap, until he takes a sip out of it and huffs.

”This is the first time,” he starts slowly, ”that I seriously consider breaking the oyabun’s trust.”

”You know, Hanzo, I think in this case - it’s just for the best that you do, because he’s fucking insane.”

”You do understand that if we do this,” the older continues, once again disregarding what Genji said, ”you’ll have to pretend that you claimed me to the day he dies?”

Genji grimaces, then - with some hesitation - he shrugs.  
”Seems like a much smaller price to pay for your freedom than the alternative, really,” he says, ”Besides, it was supposed to be a family secret, wasn’t it? So nobody else will end up thinking I fucked my own brother, it’s just that he’ll never look at me the same, and I’ll never forgive him for trying to set this up anyway. At least if he thinks I went through with it, I’ll have a good reason to hate him for it.”

Hanzo sighs. He drinks his tea in silence for some time, cherry petals stuck in his now tied-back hair, but then he lets out a sharp breath and lifts his gaze back to Genji.

”Good,” he says.

”Good?”

”Good.”

Genji grins.  
”Alright, then.”

 


End file.
